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Sarah MacRae is a widow with two young children and a farm to run. Gordon MacKenna is the son of the village chieftain, alone in life since his first love was killed in a tragic accident he couldn’t prevent.
Gordon offers to take over the farm and bring in the crop, which includes taking the widow and her family as his own.
Life is hard in the Highlands of Scotland, filled with back-breaking work and dangers of all kinds. But it can also be filled with passion and romance.
Emkay Graphics has published "Handfast" as a chapbook, and it is now available for purchase. The cost is $5 (US) through PayPal (electronic check or credit card) including postage (US only, overseas: $2 additional).
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WARNING: This story contains explicit scenes of a sexual nature.
EXCERPT FROM
"HANDFAST"
The widow cringed with each hollow thump as the clods of damp earth struck the wooden coffin. the men of the clan MacKenna bent to their shovels to fill in the grave, and it wasn’t long before the earth was piled high and the clods fell silently.
Slowly the village folk drifted away until only the widow and her two children stood by the side of the Chieftain and watched the two remaining men mound the soil over the new grave. When they had tamped down the last of the dark earth, one of the men rolled a large stone into place as a marker, and the other gathered up the shovels and ropes, then followed the rest of the folk back to the village alone.
“As soon as the stonecutter finishes,” the Chieftain promised, “we’ll mark it wi’ a proper stone.”
“Aye.” She was weary of standing, the children clutching at her sides, but it was her duty to see him buried proper. Duty done, she shooed the children toward home and pulled the tartan shawl closer around her shoulders. The spring wind whistled through the tree tops bringing with it a promise of a cold driving rain before nightfall.
The younger man brushed the dirt from his hands and pulled the bonnet from his dark head as he approached the widow. “My condolences, Mistress Sarah,” he said, ducking his head in reverence for the deceased. “Dugal were a good man.”
She touched his hand lightly. “Thank you, Gordon.”
“It is done,” the Chieftain pronounced and pulled his claymore from the earth at the graveside. He handed the sword to his son and took Sarah’s arm. “Come, ’tis time we were away.”
As they started along the path that led back to the village she turned for a last look at the fresh grave. With a deep breath she turned away and walked with the Chieftain, Gordon two steps behind, bearing his father’s sword.
They walked in silence most of the way to the village and as the first of the thatched roofs came into view MacKenna spoke again. “Ye have no other kin, do ye, Sarah?”
“No,” she answered. “My father’s long dead, and I’ve nae brothers. Dugal’s only brother took vows ten years past.” She shook her head. “’Tis the bairns and myself, now. Alone.”
“Father?” Gordon spoke tentatively, and the older man stopped and turned to his son.
“If ye please, Father, and Mistress Sarah agrees, I would see to her and the children.”
“Ye’ll take over the holding, bring in the crop?”
“Aye, sir.”
MacKenna searched his son’s eyes, seeing the compassion and care born of the younger man’s own grief and lonely-ness. He turned to Sarah. “What say ye, woman?”
She looked past the Chieftain to meet Gordon’s eyes her-self, then nodded. “Your son honors me, my lord.”
“So be it.”